She is Something
by palaces.out.of.paragraphs
Summary: He thinks nothing of her until she is family, something that displeases them both. Follow Tom as he categorizes his history with Mary.
1. Familial

**I. Familial**

She is nothing to him and then she is something. It happens in a matter of moments when they are discovered at the inn. Lady Mary eye's him with a look of pure hatred. She turns her nose up at him as she and Lady Edith persuade Sybil to head back to Downton. Her gloved hands grip Sybil's upper arm as she is lead away. Lady Edith gives him a quick glance; her eyebrows narrowed as if he is a traitor. Lady Mary stares at him and Tom finds it hard to imagine that Mr. Crawley sees something warming and beautiful in her.

"Goodbye, Lady Mary," he says.

She blinks, before her face becomes unreadable as she swiftly exits. She has no desire to occupy the same space as him; that is quite clear.

When he is left alone, he allows himself to crumble. Sybil is the only good thing about England and he must have her. He relishes hearing her speak her true mind, the way her blue eyes light up. He slams his hand against the bed post. He will not allow her aristocratic family to push him out. Their love is stronger than that. And damn Lady Mary if she is to try.

/

Sybil flutters around as she praises her older sisters. Edith is quite bright, so she says. Mary is kind beyond belief. Tom laughs at that, but stops as Sybil's eyes briefly lose their brightness.

"Please try, for my sake."

"Did you ask your sister to try?"

"But of course they will! They wish for my happiness above all else."

Tom bites back another laugh. Her parents are not attending the wedding. Lord Grantham made it clear that Tom could never be family or anything close. Tom cannot help but think the same. He has heard whispers from the family when they act as if he is not there. He sees the way they eye some people. And of course, there's the talk from the rest of the servants. He cannot help but be tense at the news that Lady Mary and Lady Edith intend to attend the wedding.

When they meet up prior to the event, Sybil flies into their arms. She is a glowing bride as she rattles on about Tom and their plans afterwards.

"Lady Edith," Tom says. The blonde turns to him, her brown eyes bore into his. He taught her how to drive. She would sit at the wheel and there was little conversation between them. She stares at him like he is a new specimen, but he refuses to let his eyes wander away.

"Mr. Branson," she says finally. He cannot help but blink at the addressment. He has never been a "mister" in their eyes. That would put him almost equal to Mr. Crawley! His attention is brought back as Edith holds out a gloved hand. It is clear the material is far more expensive than anything he owns or anything he can provide Sybil. A moment of insecurity passes through him before he grips her hand. Perhaps it's a bit too hard as she wiggles her fingers when he releases her. They are not men in a pub, he reminds himself.

He knows he must address _her_ next. Was it rude that he did not acknowledge her fist since she is eldest? The thought makes him giddy as he meets her level gaze. She stares at him wordlessly. There is no longer a smile on her face as she wears her aristocratic mask.

"Lady Mary."

"Branson."

His jaw tenses and seeing this, the corners of her mouth turn up for a second. He waits for her to extend her hand, but she doesn't. She had expressed that she does not see him as equal.

"Well, let's catch up. There is much I have to say about tomorrow. It will be a happy occasion," Sybil says.

His eyes travel back to his fiancée and he pulls her close. Lady Edith raises her eyebrows and pretends not to see. Lady Mary now has a clear frown on her face. It is improper, he knows, and that makes him smile more.

"Yes, of course, Sybil," he replies.

He can feel her sister's nose wrinkling in disgust. Good. Lady Mary and her lifestyle disgust him as well.

/

Sybil practically runs into the kitchen, a letter clutched in her hand. Tom raises her eyebrows as she continues to shake.

"Mary's getting married!"

Tom raises his eyebrows. Lady Mary is going to wed? He pictures her next to a tall, aristocratic pompous. Nodding, he can now picture her a wife.

"Did you hear me? Mary is marrying Cousin Matthew. Oh I am sure the house is mad with excitement. I wish I could see their faces. She has waited so long for this, only to be tried again and again. But now it's happening and it is perfection in the eyes of Mama. And Papa also, I'm sure."

Sybil scans the letter again, her smile continuing to grow. Tom sighs. With his job and income, they cannot travel to Downton. Impossible. "Sybil, darling…"

"I know we don't have the money, Tom. But I am still excited and I want to keep up with the news. It will be beautiful and I—I want to hear about it."

"I'm sorry," he replies. He isn't sorry about missing Lady Mary. He could go his whole life without witnessing her in a white gown, headed down the aisle. But Sybil wants it and so that makes him sorry.

"Do not apologize," Sybil says. Her hand cups his cheek and all thoughts of Mary and Mr. Crawley are gone.

/

They were sent money and somehow they arrive back in England. It was not his desire to be here, but Sybil was ecstatic.

"Can you believe Papa did such a thing?"

No, he could not. Lord Grantham had looked at him the same way his eldest daughter did, with contempt. Lord Grantham had made it clear at Miss Swire's funeral that he wished for Tom to disappear off the Earth. Even with all Lady Grantham's power, it seemed unlikely they sent the money.

Soon enough they pulled up to Downton and the entire family and servants were lined up. Sybil felt at home whereas Tom felt he was a prisoner being turned over.

Hugs were given and Lady Grantham gave him a smile that looked forced and too stretched. However, she was trying and that was an improvement.

He found himself stuck chatting with the Crawley family as they sipped tea with their eyes trained of him. Tom found Matthew pleasant though as he tried to make him feel comfortable.

"We are family and I know quite well how it feels to be on the outside."

Tom shrugged. "Thank you."

"They are good people though. And Mary, well her bark is worse than her bite."

Tom eyes the woman sitting across from him. She's chatting with her grandmother, but she glances over every so often, eyes narrowed. "I'll keep that in mind."

Matthew patted him on the shoulder as he rose to speak to Lord Grantham. They talk in a content manner. Feelings of resentment built up in Tom. Lord Grantham spoke as if Matthew was his own son. Matthew was viewed as a god of sorts in the household. Tom, however, was ever the pariah. The words "son-in-law" never crossed Lord Grantham's mind when it came to Tom.

Tom does not let his feelings build up in fear that it will upset Sybil. The days continue and Tom wonders what else these people do with themselves.

It is one night when they are entertaining the Greys and Sir Strallan that Tom finds out. He is the victim of a prank by Larry Grey who had a soft spot for Sybil. Tom wants to settle the matter in the dirt, fist to fist. However, these men have class and instead are just shown the door.

"Tom is my best man," Matthew announces.

Sybil is bursting with joy and Tom leans against her for support. He wants Ireland. He wants home.

But then Mary is standing, her eyes glowing as she beams at Matthew. It is the first time Tom sees her with a look of pure happiness. He is caught off guard and leans into Sybil more. He knows Mary is happy with Matthew's kindness and does not give a damn about what Tom does. Tom smiles slightly as he is carted off. He does not know what to make of the Crawleys.

/

She floats down the aisle and Tom is surprised she is not the bloody queen. She is smiling, her arm intertwined with her father's, as she walks to Matthew. Tom knows he will remember this moment. The moment he realized Mary Crawley's heart was not cold and empty.

They whisper to each other and soon enough they are husband and wife. The future Earl and Countess of Grantham.

"Was that not beautiful?" asks Sybil. They are back at Downton mingling with people who have owned more since their birth than Tom will ever have.

"I preferred ours."

Sybil laughs, clutching his arm tighter. She nods and presses her lips to his. As long as he has her, his world is complete. Their love will outlast everything.

They find the couple once more before they are gone.

"I am so happy you are now my brother. I knew it since the moment we met you," says Sybil, her arms wrapped around Matthew. She pulls away to grin at him. "And you have made Mary the happiest I have ever seen her."

"Thank you for allowing me to play a part," says Tom. He thinks back to the drinks they shared as Matthew pats him.

"We are family. I mean it, we can go to each other."

Tom smiles. "I do appreciate that."

Then he is in front of Lady Mary. Her cheeks are pink as she looks at him. He has never seen her so radiant and it almost scares him.

"Congratulations, Lady Mary."

For a moment he thinks she will simply stare at him. A small smile forms as she says, "Thank you."

And then it's gone so fast that he almost wonders if he dreamt it. He realizes he has nothing more to say and stumbles over words as he exits. She watches him with what almost looks like amusement.

/

"Sybil, I'm so sorry, love."

"Yes. Now go. Go!"

He dashes out with a fear in his heart that he is saying goodbye to Ireland. Tom takes off after a last glance at Sybil and her swollen belly. They discussed where to go. Home, Sybil said. To Downton.

/

He hears her screams and pulls again at his hair. He is downstairs with Matthew sitting there useless as two—

Lady Mary enters, a rare grin on her face. And everything is fine. They are fine.

Tom rushes to his wife's side as she cradles the baby. It's a girl. It's the beginning of their family.

"I love you," says Tom as he is ushered out.

Sybil smiles. "And I love you."

He receives more congratulations and the family is now acting like a family. He thanks them and shuffles to bed, lost in thought.

It is her screams that bring him back to the room. They are all gathered around her bed and the posh doctor says there is nothing to be done.

He is aware of his own screams as he begs Sybil to stay. Lady Grantham is next to him, her cries just as loud.

Sybil struggles for air and then, she stops. Wails fill the room and he grips the sheets. What does he do without her? What does their baby do?

Selfishly he cries at the thought he is left alone with her snobbish parents and sisters, with only a brother-in-law for comfort. He hears the soft cries from Mary and Edith as they stare at their younger sister.

"How can this be?" asks Lord Grantham.

Tom presses his face into the bed sheets. His darling is gone. He is alone.

/

It seems that even the funerals require lavish designs. Lady Grantham and her daughters were black satin with gloves that cover their arms. Their faces are partially hidden by obtrusive hats. The staff wears black armbands, even at Crawley house.

Matthew is there, his blue eyes downcast as he offers to help Tom with the baby. He does not want help though. He wants Sybil.

The funeral itself is horrid as more people show up, black hats with tiny beading covering their faces as they dab under their eyes. No one is sobbing, not even Lady Grantham. She struggles to keep a straight face and soon enough Lady Mary has taken her place in thanking people for making the journey out.

Bile rises in Tom's throat as these people, most of whom Sybil never mentioned, act as if they knew her best. Some wander to him with falsities like "wish we could have had dinner" or "please come to us for nanny references". They all eye him though as if he is an animal on a leash. Tugging at his collar he makes his way back to Matthew.

Tom stops though as he sees the man cradling his wife. Lady Mary's head rests against his chest as she whispers something. It is painful to watch, them both so in love and so _alive_.

He settles for Lady Edith who has joined the masses in dabbing gently under her lashes. She startles as he appears next to her.

"Oh, Mr. Branson. How are you fairing?"

It's a silly question and she must know it as her cheeks turn rosy.

"I would like this part to end."

"Well, it seems that wish is granted." She glances about as people trail back to where they came from. Tom is quite sure he will never see two thirds of them ever again. "You know, Sybil always believed in the good of a person. She adored Mary and I because she was certain there was goodness in both of us. I do wonder about that."

Tom raises his head to meet her eyes. It is the first intimate thing Edith has shared. Their conversations never went far beyond the weather. He sees Lady Grantham who leans against Lord Grantham as her body shakes from crying. Lady Mary is still wrapped in Matthew's arms. The Dowager and Mrs. Crawley converse with strained looks on their faces. His body shakes.

"I wonder also, Lady Edith."

 _ **Okay so I'm not sure about this title? I actually finished this chapter earlier but didn't post because I was agonizing over the title. Thoughts? Also, I want to make this clear from the beginning: this is a three shot. Does that term exist? Anyways...there will only be three chapters. I often guestimate, but with this I'm certain. Anyways, thank you for reading. I know it has been several months. I'm balancing many things and as much as I would like to put writing first, I can't. I hope you enjoyed this first part.**_

 _ **Also, for the first time I'm writing everything from Tom's view. With Brary fics, I tend to find more comfort writing Mary. I'm not sure why because I adore Tom; this is a new challenge though and I hope it paid off. After this fic, I'm not sure what is next. No matter what though, Brary will always be important to me. I hope that many of you will take on the challenge of writing your own stories. This fandom is filled with good writers! And I've pretty much read every single Brary fic.**_ _ **Stay tuned.**_

 _ **Leave a review. Please. Also, follow me on tumblr: mrsmarybranson**_

 _ **Also, I made a Hamilton reference somewhere… as you know if you follow me on social media, I love Hamilton.**_


	2. Friendship

**II. Friendship**

"Sybbie," he whispers. He pats the blanket that is wrapped around his daughter. Their daughter. The only child Sybil will ever have. He bites his lip and pulls his gaze away from the sleeping newborn. He should be more joyous, he knows this. However, he sets the baby back in the crib in fear she will remind him too much of his dead beloved.

With resignation, Tom slips out of the room to rejoin his in-laws. The already uncomfortable atmosphere combined with the salt and bitterness that comes with grief has kept Tom on edge. He knows the reason he still sleeps in a luxury bed in Downton is because of his daughter. Her name is Branson, but she has Crawley blood in her. In fact, all Lord Grantham seems to see is the Crawley side.

In an effort to turn to a new page, the women have started rattling about the christening. Tom has half-listened, objecting in between glasses of scotch.

Edith brings the subject up again in the morning. So began the bickering. Enough was enough, he decided.

"Sybbie should be Catholic like her father," Tom protests. He watched Lord Grantham's expression continue to sour. Tom would not let the man push him farther into the dirt. Baptism was the first sacrament and fundamental.

The bickering continued. The protests were from Lord Grantham as Lady Grantham would weakly intervene. Dinner was made worse as the argument took center stage

"Sybil said she had no objection to the baby being Catholic." Tom swiveled to stare at the eldest Crawley sister.

Lady Mary sat primly, her face cool as she addressed her father.

"Did she really?" breaths Tom.

Mary blinked and looked at him. He was not quite sure why she spoke up. This was of no benefit to Lady Mary to have one less member of the Church of England, her own denomination. Mary blinked again. "Yes."

They stare at each other and Tom searches for some part of Sybil in her. The only resemblance to him seems to be their dark locks. Mary turned away from him, back to Matthew who smiled at her.

Tom licked his lips and sipped the wine. It seemed they would call on Father Dominic after all.

/

Matthew chats with him in the library about almost anything. He also confides that Lord Grantham's pride costs rifts between them as well.

"He's quite stubborn. Though I suppose that is the Crawley way," the blond comments.

Tom laughs, drawing the attention of the family. They gather often together and the mourning slowly gives way. Tom's heart still hurts. There is a part of him gone that will never come back. A part of him he will one day forget. No, he will never forget his darling Sybil. But the feeling of knowing that she existed just as much as him will slip away.

Tom shifts back to Matthew.

Mary walks over to them, eyebrows raised. "Have I missed a humorous story?"

"Darling, you miss nothing," Matthew replies.

Mary preens at this before her chocolate eyes focus on Tom. "How are you today?"

There is no chill in her voice. Her eyebrows are relaxed and her lips turn up just the slightest. Tom coughs. "Fine enough thanks to Sybbie."

"I certainly hope we may be of help also. Are you still adamant about the Nanny?"

Tom coughs again. It is not forced conversation. It is not talk of cloudy skies or fashion. He smiles slightly. "Yes, I want to see how things go for now. Thank you though, for taking an interest."

Is that appropriate to say? Her lips turn down, almost pouty. "Of course! She is my niece. I would like to make sure she is healthy and happy."

Tom nods. "Of course. Good."

The thought strikes him as he stares at his sister-in-law in the red dress. She is going to be Sybbie's godmother.

/

"I do feel bad you will be left alone in this enormous house," says Matthew. "I mean; these people are strangers to me as well."

"Yes, but you are the future earl, not me."

Matthew grumbled as the family headed towards the car. Mary appeared next, her hand on her hat to stop the wind from doing damage. "I trust you that Downton will be managed well."

Mary is pregnant, her stomach poking out despite the loose clothing. She stares at him, lips pinched. Matthew says she is quite upset at him for suggesting they stay put. "Of course, milady." He says it as a joke because the situation seems like one.

This earns him a smile and he glimpses her white teeth. "Thank you… Tom."

She smiles again and blows a kiss at Sybbie. She is still smiling as she climbs into the car beside her husband. He waves to all of them and sighs as he heads back in. Perhaps it is the pregnancy, but he hopes Mary is becoming a warmer person.

/

The statement is repeated several times before Tom can form the words to acknowledge what's said. Matthew Crawley, future Earl of Grantham, is dead.

The words "car", "milk", and "quick" slip into Tom's ears. He tries to process the information. He knew they had rushed back. Mary was having the baby, no, she _just_ had the baby. The family is in chaos and Tom stands there, in the middle of the hurricane.

"Mary does not know," Lord Grantham says.

Tom pictures her, smiling and climbing into the car in determined fashion.

He has lost his other ally. She has lost her heart.

/

She does not venture beyond her room. Not even for George. They have a son, a small blessing to the family in the middle of the tragic crisis. The line will continue inside the family with George Reginald Crawley.

The baby's crib is added to the nursery, but Sybbie does not seem to mind. Tom ventures over to the boy daily, hoping to provide some comfort in his mother's absence. Little George Crawley cries though and Tom knows he must talk to his sister-in-law.

He approaches the subject around tea. "You need to take in an interest in something."

"I'm interested in George."

"Are you?" he asks. She does not take offense, her eyes set in the same gaze.

"I will be."

Tom sighs and earns a look from Lord Grantham. Matthew made him estate manager, but now Tom feels like an outsider again.

/

At some point, Tom has become a confidante. He doesn't quite understand why. He bickers with her father more than anyone in the house. He is polite to Edith, her "enemy". True, he now has separate attire for dinner; but he does not hesitate to let them know he finds it all silly. He does not gravel at her feet when she walks into the room. He does not back down under her heated stare. When her lips press together, he does not stop. Perhaps he does not run his mouth like his younger years, but he will not succumb to their political beliefs. Tom is not her ideal friend. He is not from her world. Yet, she confides to him and visits tenants with him on her arm.

All of it almost makes him forget he hated her. But not quite.

They are walking the grounds of Downton; she dawns a purple dress that is the lightest shade he has seen her wear in a while. The wind frees a dark brown curl as she stares ahead. They are both quite tired after spending time in the nursery. Tom thinks back to the image of Sybbie settled against Mary's chest. He does not want to let that picture go, ever.

"You are quite silent today. Has Papa truly worn the great Tom Branson out?" she asks. Her gaze is still forwards and her strides remain the same. His lip curls up at the easiness in her tone.

"Never."

"Hmm."

He glances again at her. A smile plays on her face for the briefest of moments. He never knew her happiness would mean so much to him.

"I used to hate you," he announces. There's a quick moment after where his breaths cannot escape. He is weary as she stops to stare at him.

She focuses on a tree behind him, before meeting his eyes. "I know. You did not have the art of subtlety."

He feels his cheeks flush in embarrassment and excitement. "Well, I was not raised to hide feelings."

He curses internally. His younger self is making an unneeded appearance.

She lets out a short laugh. "To show is to lose the upper hand. Though even if you were raised among us I would say you would not possess subtlety."

"Oh?" He's a bit insulted. Does she think him incapable of thriving in her world?

"Yes. It's not in your nature."

His building frustration is replaced with warmth. Mary's compliments are not often bestowed; while he is not sure if her comment is meant as one, he does not care.

She goes on. "You would not be Tom Branson if you decided to mask emotions."

His heart beats harder.

/

He enjoys joining the chorus of laughter over men trying to gain Mary's favor. They all stumble forward with the same ignorant thought: Mary can be controlled.

His amusement ends faster than others' when he sees the distain in their eyes as they grasp his hand. He will never be one of them.

But they do provide amusement and the outward grieving is done. Mary packs up the black and purples. The colors become happy again.

She enters the nursery, her cheeks flushed from the weather, in a pretty blue dress. It's got intricate detailing and Tom knows it must cost a fortune. But she settles onto the ground, allowing Sybbie and George to climb over her, wrinkling the fabric. She does not seem to care as she strokes her son's cheek. She is something.

/

"I do not think I am ready to marry again."

"Then don't," he replies.

She eyes him with a warmth that is becoming familiar. "How easy you make it sound."

He thinks of his love, Sybil. How her arms wrapped around his middle; how she would press her lips to his with vigor. Shaking his head, he eyes Mary. "No, I know it's quite the opposite."

Mary's face becomes strained. She grabs his hand and he stumbles. "Of course you do. There's no one in this moment that understands me more than you. And how insane the idea, that we are friends? How beautifully insane."

/

There's a woman, Ms. Sarah Bunting. She represents everything Tom once was, in female form. She speaks without restraint and bickers with the Crawleys.

He keeps her around as a friend. He sees the way they eye her. Cora puts on her faux smile, in an attempt to make peace. Robert looks pained. Mary and Edith watch from afar. Mary. Her eyes linger on Sarah's form and he wonders if this is it. He's brought this outspoken, aggressive woman into Downton to led her debate them.

She puts on that familiar face, walk, and talk. And for a moment he wonders how he ever let her have a place in his heart. He stops there. This is Mary. The Mary who sobbed over Matthew for six months straight. The Mary that kisses his daughter's cheeks and picks out dresses for her. The Mary that sneaks glances at him when Robert says something they disagree with.

But then dinner happens. And it is a horrid affair that ends in him feeling hurt and ashamed all at once. It feels like the beginning, except there is no Sybil in his room to settle him down.

He cries that night. He sees their faces over and over. " _Fuck_ ," he whispers. He hears Mary and the word "friend" over and over. "Fuck," he says again.

/

"I am going to take the job offer in America." He says it in a rush.

They are hurt. Robert begins talking about Sybbie staying. Tom refutes the idea. He's taking Sybbie and he is going to America.

Cora and Edith say nothing. Their heads hang lower than before he spoke.

He dares a glance at her. She eyes him with a look of utter betrayal. She rises and exits. He leaps up after her.

"You should have told me," she says, back to him.

"I did."

She whips around, a slim, pale fingers points at him. "You know what I mean, Tom Branson."

His shoulders sag. Behind the anger, there is hurt. "Mary—"

"Don't you dare," she replies. She stalks off and he decides to let her go. They will have to talk later. She has to see. She has to see why he has to do this.

When they see each other later, she is pleasant. He pretends as if it's not all an act.

/

For a bit now, Rose has prattled on about a man named Atticus. Tom blew it off as Rose being Rose. He's fond of the girl, but her wildness has not escaped his memory. She is also kind though and so he indulges in listening to her talk.

And then they are to go to Brancaster. The word sounds too posh for his mouth. He does not wish to go, but the idea is downed along with a glass of scotch.

"This should be interesting," Mary murmurs.

He eyes her, eyebrow raised. "In a good way?"

"In some way," she says.

As it turns out, it is. Atticus is nice, but his father is a bit too proud for Tom's liking. Among their other guests is a man named Bertie and a man named Henry. They come from humbler backgrounds which he can relate to.

Henry is drawn to Mary and Tom takes a spot as spectator. She seems indifferent to him at best as she sashays away to speak with others.

"That butler is quite rude to you," she says.

"It's nothing."

"No," she says with a frown. "It's unacceptable."

"Really Mary, leave it."

She lets out a huff and sips her wine in response. He watches the liquid stain her already red lips. His heart flutters as he raises his eyes back to her determined gaze.

/

 _ **This is what happens after you drink a Berry Sangria from Starbucks and have a successful day of shopping. You get another 1k words out. So, obviously this time-hopped but I couldn't fit everything. Sorry. I'm so pleased with the response to this three shot. Thank you, thank you, thank you!**_

 _ **To the anon who was shocked and excited that there's Brary fanfics, fandom, and name. Yes, we exist! We are on tumblr if you search through the tag. There are other fabulous stories on ff net.**_

 _ **This is kind of rushed, so I apologize. I just got back from shopping, and I'm going out again. Please continue to review. Next chapter is the final chapter. I'm sure you can guess what's coming, but ah non-canon is always fun!**_

 _ **Find me on tumblr: mrsmarybranson**_

 _ **P.S. you may have noticed the name change. Same person, same stories… I just wanted to honor Hamilton.**_


	3. Romantic

**III. Romantic**

He agrees not to leave them for America until after Christmas. He will depart with Sybbie on the twenty-ninth. But he still has a few weeks and goddamn, they will be memorable. He will hold the memories close to his heart. The memories of how his wife's family has come to love him as Tom. As just Tom.

His attention is drawn back to the tree that workers are carrying in. Every Christmas the last several years has been spent at Downton and he still isn't used to the size. It's quite magnificent, even without the sparkles and dangles adorning it. Sybbie and George are in his care and they cheer as they see the tree. Father Christmas will put gifts under and Tom recounts the giddiness he felt as a child in Ireland.

"It's starting to feel quite like Christmas, is it not?" he asks them.

"Yes, Papa," answers Sybbie. She is developing an English accent. Years ago it would have frustrated him, but now it only makes him think of dear Sybil. And _her._

George is too awestruck to say a word as he points to the tree carried farther into the home. Tom ruffles his blond locks and he navigates the children back to the drawing room. Their chatter fills the halls and it's all quite refreshing. A moment of sadness passes through him before he banishes it.

"How is everything coming along?" Edith has appeared with Marigold.

"Well enough I think. Though we will have to wait for your mother and Mary's approval."

"Ah yes. Has she inserted herself in this business as well?" The slight bitterness has not escaped Tom's notice. He wonders how the two will act when he, the last buffer, is gone.

"She has taken it upon herself to oversee some preparations," he concedes.

Edith nods. "Well no matter what, it is sure to be a marvelous Christmas. It must be, if we are to lose you."

"It isn't goodbye, Edith."

She sends a quick look his way, before facing forward. He is reminded of the day of Sybil's funeral and her hesitancy. "Of course," is all she says.

They go their separate ways and Tom is determined not to let Edith's talk settle badly in his stomach. She meant no harm, of that he is sure. However, every word spoken in such finality floods him with sadness and guilt. He's mulled over it thousands of times though and the decision to leave remains clear. Tom never thought of himself as a runner, growing up.

But he ran from Ireland after foolish decisions.

He's running from Downton because of something he certainly did not decide.

/

They have a nice moment in the nursery and Tom enjoys the feeling of Mary's gloved hand in his more than he cares to admit.

They pull away and he realizes they are everything he ever wanted in sister-in-laws. They bicker and their flaws are on display. But they love each other and him. It is not a concept; it is a fact. Mary sashays down the stairs and Tom draws his gaze upwards to the Lord.

/

George giggles with glee at the gift Tom has presented him. The wrapping paper is all around as he clutches the toy car to his chest. It is the newest to add to his collection of smaller cars and trains.

"Thank you." His soft voice echoes as Tom pulls him closer.

The children finish marveling over their new treasures and the adults join together for a nice meal. Mary grasps his hand. "You're too kind to George."

"Impossible."

Her lips turn up and he's caught off guard as she kisses his cheek. There is a gloom in her eyes, but it's hidden as she drags him to the table in a quite un-Lady Mary like way.

He will remember this moment. He does not want to believe it is the last Christmas he will ever spend at this table. Violet and Isobel have joined them and their conversation is nothing but light. He can picture a tall, blond gentleman across from him. He leans in, always jovial. His head tilts, a playful grin on his face as he addresses everyone. His eyes flicker to Tom's and they share a look reserved for brother-in-laws who understand what marrying into the Crawley family is like.

The image starts to hurt and Tom's eyes flicker to another spot. Her hair is growing out again and her husky voice fills the air. She teases every member at the table and makes faces at the children, who are allowed in the presence of the adults on this morning. Her blue eyes meet his and he feels a flush coming on. She says nothing but jerks her head to the left. His focus shifts and lands on Mary. She has an amused look on her face as her mother speaks. He shifts his gaze back but she is gone. She is gone, but Mary is still present.

His silverware clatters and Isobel sends him a look. He can't handle these memories and the sorrow in the air. He knows the blame for his departure is misplaced, but fuck it. He's going. He will go.

/

"I will hold you back by force," she whispers.

He turns to Mary, brows raised in surprise. "Would you truly?"

"If it would stop you from leaving us."

It would, he thinks. He lets out a laugh that sounds harsher than intended. "It would not. Sorry, Mary."

They both stare ahead as she grasps his hand. A shiver runs down his spine as the pad of his thumb rubs against her smooth skin.

"Then I suppose this is farewell."

"You aren't coming down?"

Mary shakes her head. "No, I shall entertain George. Besides, there will be plenty saying goodbye outside. I can say more now. And I've already talked with Sybbie."

"You know I can never thank you enough for being such a mother to her."

"It was what should have been done, it's nothing to be thanked for."

"I used to hate you," Tom says.

"I know."

He summons up the courage he requires. "And now I love you. You are Mary, my friend. My sister-in-law. My family. You're Mary, and you're filled with good."

They are both trembling when he finishes and she collapses into his arms. Her nails dig into his shoulders and she lets out a few sobs before they are under control. He rubs the small of her back and the heat spreads throughout his body. This is it.

This is it.

/

Many people describe America differently. Violet Crawley's nose would wrinkle up and she would shake her head in dismissal of the country and its people. However, Cora's eyes would light up and she would explain how there was an easiness about America that England could never have.

He sees some of the easiness and delight in some citizens. They shuffle by, blusterous laughter filling the streets. Some of the richer young women dress much like Rose, the last time he saw her. Sybbie admires the different accents, trees, and food. Her English voice comes off as pleasant to many people, a contrast to his Irish lilt.

After several weeks, he still has trouble calling their place home. There is a bias against him and it turns out the English are not the only masters of turning up noses. Perhaps part of it is that Tom is almost looking for faults in the country everywhere. He is looking for reasons to dislike it so he can venture back to Downton. Back to her.

"Are you miserable here, Sybbie?" he asks one evening.

She shakes her head, crayon in hand as she draws the newest creature she's seen. Sighing, he turns his attention back to the newspaper slamming immigrants. It is his decision, what to do.

/

They rush to the house only to find everyone is gathered in town for Mr. Carson and Ms. Hughes' wedding. He pulls a giggling Sybbie along and they make it there just in time for the end of the speech. His heart warms as he spots the couple. After everything, all the chaos and tears over the years, these people deserve the happy ending.

"To the bride and groom," he says.

The back of Mary's head no longer faces him as her brown eyes meet his. Dear Lord, to be under her gaze again is serendipity. The rest of the family follow her eyes and gasp in delight at their arrival.

Sybbie squeals, "Georgie!"

He lets her down as they approach.

"What are you doing here?"

"You're back, oh Tom."

"What a surprise this is."

They bombard him with hugs and questions. Sybbie and George hug. Marigold offers Sybbie a shy smile. Cora is close to tears as she grasps his hands. They hope he is here to stay. He glances at each of them. The people he used to despise. The people that looked down at him, and him at them. He loves them.

"Yes," Tom says. Cora lets a few tears slip. Mary's lips part and her hands wobble as she pulls his hands out of her mother's grip and into hers. She says nothing, but allows him to see into the depths of her eyes. He is home.

/

They fall into a similar pace that Tom does not altogether hate. She walks in step beside him, her cheeks a familiar shade in chillier weather.

They are back to what they know.

And then Henry Talbot reenters their lives. He speaks of automobiles and a faster lifestyle, one of which Tom can appreciate. Mary seems reluctant to allow the man join them for activities.

"Is it because of Matthew?" he asks one night. It's just them and some scotch.

"I will love Matthew till my dying breath. However, it is not that."

"Then what?"

Her eyes will not meet his. "It is nothing. I did not think you came back just to worry about me, Tom."

His breathing falters and he stumbles over what to say next.

/

There is a car accident and guilt pours through Tom as Mary becomes more distraught. She's gasping and her eyes are a bit wider as they discover Henry's friend, Charlie, is dead.

She sags and backs away. Farther and farther from them all.

When he next sees her, the detached façade from years ago is present. She says a polite hello. She refuses to talk of anything Henry Talbot related. Her eyes stare straight as different people try engaging her.

Then, Henry calls. He is beside himself at the loss of his friend and possible loss of Mary. Tom's knuckles are white as he clutches the phone. Mary cannot give up on them.

After trying to refuse the telephone, Mary agrees. Her eyebrows furrow as she begins to listen to Henry. Tom decides to check back in a moment. Stepping back, his heart allows a spark of hope to soar through him. He does not want to think about the reasons as to why.

/

Bertie has joined them at Downton. Tom offers Edith a comforting smile, also meant as an apology for being too caught up in Mary's situation.

"It's good to have you here," he says to Bertie as they shake hands.

Edith's smile is wider than he has ever seen as she leads Bertie Pelham around. It all seems to be falling into place for her. Tom only wishes the same for her older sister.

Mary is still brooding though and her snarky mask is back as she greets Bertie with a slight tilt of her head.

Mary is Mary and he likes to think, at this point, he knows her quite well. He never expected her to out Edith's secret about Marigold. How did Mary even learn of the secret?

Her eyes are filled with hatred and a bit of glee as she watches Edith fumble for words as Bertie pulls away. Tom's mouth opens to find unknown words as he watches the couple crumble. Bertie acknowledges neither of them as he leaves. Edith's mouth is parted as she stares at Mary, before storming out to find him.

Mary turns back around, reaching for her glass. He clears his throat and her eyes flicker to his. He expects her to tell him something, anything. Why did she do that? What is wrong? Her eyes are cold and empty as she raises an eyebrow, daring him to speak.

He feels his lips tremble as he breaks her gaze.

Later, he decides to corner her at their office. Tom knows what Mary is doing. He has seen her do it for years, long before they were each other's confidantes. She pulls away, isolates herself and tears everyone down in the process. Edith, is her favorite, usual prey. They have always had trouble seeing eye-to-eye, but the drama is at another level. He recalls a conversation with Matthew about Mary's inability to admit her pride gets the best of her. Her inability to expose her deepest feelings to others. However, both men realized that was not the case. They both received the greatest gift of all from Mary; her secrets, her raw, vulnerable moments. She opened up to Matthew. Over time, she opened up to Tom as well.

Perhaps that was part of why he felt anger running through him. She had not confided to him that she knew the truth about Marigold. Mary had filed it away and when Edith found a love as great as hers and Matthew's, she broke. He cannot understand why when Henry is ready to give everything to her. What else would she desire?

They are in two different worlds, like years ago, and it hurts. It frustrates him. And dammit, he will fix this all. Mary is flipping through papers when he enters. She looks as indifferent, vein, and beautiful as she did when he first introduced himself. My, how long they have known each other. How long they have debated, spoken, and confided. She was at his wedding. He was the third to hold George, after her husband and father. Robert had an ulcer and they were there, together, pacing and comforting. How long they have known each other and she fucking springs this on her sister and him.

He's talking before his brain can catch up. She stares at him with a pained look.

"Don't lie. Not to me," he says.

Her mask drops as she lets out a ragged breath. They stare at each other and he wonders if she plans on saying anything. "I'm so sorry."

Tom shakes his head. "It's Edith who deserves the apology."

"No, you deserve one as well. I have lied to you. I need to rectify that."

He feels his heart sink. A number of things filter through his mind as she stares at him. Her eyes are the closest to chocolate he has ever seen. She brushes a hair out of her face and glances away.

"Go on," he whispers.

"I have only ever been in love with two men. One, a man I could not stand to breathe the same air as. A man I was convinced was uncivilized, unfit for this household. A man trying to win my heart and not because he was the future earl." A small laugh escapes her. "The first person to ever make me feel so whole and _pure_. Matthew was my existence."

He feels tears threatening to escape. She understands. He thinks of Sybil and he lets out his own shaky breath. He stares at Mary who is trying her best to look unaffected. "And then?"

"I was so sure I would never know love again. But then, then I found it."

His heart shatters a bit. She loves Henry. The entire family has waited for her to reach this conclusion. Henry's gone though and he still sees it as no excuse for letting Edith's secret out. He can't quite picture them together because his heart won't allow it. Nodding, Tom adds, "You found it in Henry."

She has been staring at a wall away from them, but her head now whips around. He is not sure what he expects, but it is not for her to wrinkle her nose in distaste like her grandmother. "Certainly not, contrary to popular belief. As I've said before, Henry and I are better off apart. I see him as a friend, a kind gentleman. I'm sorry if none of you can understand that, but you must because my decision over him is quite final."

"Then I'm afraid I do not know where this conversation is going."

Is there another man? His heart hurts at the implication. It is impossible for him to fathom Mary keeping such an important detail secret from him. Him, whom she tells everything. Her eyes slide back to the wall.

"I found love again; I will no longer deny that. I found it with a man I could not stand to breathe the same air as. A man I was convinced was uncivilized, unfit for this household. A man who never tried to win my affection, despite the countless others who did. A man who is as invested in Downton's future as I am." Her gaze falls back on him. He is shocked by the hesitancy in her movements. A small smile plays on her trembling lips as she says, "My darling, you have made me feel whole and pure again."

Tom is sure they are both crying as he lets her words wash over him. She loves him. Lady Mary Crawley loves him. Every fantasy he has not allowed himself to dwell on now surfaces. She's shaking as he pulls her to him.

"Mary. Dear God, Mary," he says.

It does not matter who makes the move, as their lips crush together. He wants to run his hands through her hair so he pushes her hat off. One hand trails to cup her cheek. For months he has wondered how smooth her cheeks truly are. Her nails dig into his arms and he lets out a grunt.

Air becomes necessary and they pull away. She is the most flushed he as ever seen her. Pieces of her hair stick out and she scowls as she begins patting them down.

"I love you," he says gravely.

Her eyes brighten as she comes closer. "I love you."

/

The reactions from her family vary. Robert is blown back several years and is quite grumpy till Cora convinces him otherwise. Edith's lips turn down when his hand settles on Mary's waist; it's quite scandalous. Isobel comes up to him, a blank look on her face. He has not admitted it, but Tom wants her approval.

"I knew it," says Isobel. She then proceeds to pull them into a hug.

"So this is really happening?" asks Robert.

Cora sends him a look and Violet snorts. Cora replies, "Do you not want your eldest daughter to be happy?"

"Of course," Robert says. His focus goes back to Mary and Tom. Tom wonders if this will be the moment when his father-in-law finally lands one. The thought has crossed his mind from the moment Sybil yanked him through the front door. "There are no two people more deserved of love."

Tom smiles and Mary crosses the room to wrap her arms around her father. They are family. They are his family.

/

He visits their graves. He stops at Sybil's first. His fingers scrape against the stone, dragging against the top. His love.

"Sybil, love, what do I even say? You will always be my wife. Sybbie will always be yours. However, I imagine you're laughing from above. You were always telling me how much goodness Mary had in her and now I believe you. I see it. You wanted me to see it and I have. Oh darling, I will always have with me the way you wanted me to see the world. I love you, Sybil."

He stays there a while longer before moving to the larger headstone. It seems bigger than Matthew would have liked.

"I will take care of her. I will make sure George knows what a great man you were. I will."

/

The wedding is all quite a blur, if he's honest. He remembers Bertie, his best man, calming his nerves. He remembers marveling at the length of Mary's veil. He remembers sliding the ring onto her slim finger. Those are the moments he can picture with accuracy.

After that, nothing. That is, until it is just them stumbling towards the bed, happy with champagne settling in their stomachs.

Mary is immediate as she tugs at his clothes. Their clothes land in a pile close to the door and he takes in her body that seems to glow.

"You're beautiful."

"As are you, darling. Now please, don't make me beg."

He lets out a laugh. They fall onto the soft sheets and he enters her quickly. They have plenty of time for foreplay later. Her back arches up and he pulls her lips to his. He loves her. He loves her. He loves her. He lets her know.

/

"We have some exciting news, children."

"What is it Papa?" asks Sybbie.

"You are going to have a little brother or sister."

Sybbie and George's eyebrows furrow as they survey the room. Mary stifles a laugh as the children's frowns deepens.

"Where?"

"Well, in Mama's belly."

Sybbie points to Mary's round stomach, inspecting it. "In Mama's belly?"

"Yes, dear. They won't be here for a while though. Are you and George excited?" asks Mary.

The children consider it, lips pursed. "Yes!"

"Good because your father and I are very excited."

Mary's hands press against her stomach and she sends a comforting glance his way. They have both discussed the worries over the pregnancy. Mary was fine the first time though; Tom reminds himself always. There is no going back though and he wants this child. A small being that is part him, part Mary. The thought is inconceivable only a year ago. He would not even want to dream it when he was the younger, former chauffeur.

He helps her rise to her feet as they leave the children to go back to playing in the nursery. She shuffles along, taking a breath in preparation for the stairs. She is quite large, not that he would ever tell her.

"I'm quite content with our life, Mary," he says.

She continues her slower pace down the hall, sending him a slide glance. "I am happy to hear it."

"Mary?"

"Yes, darling?"

"They would want us to be happy."

She stops now, her attention diverted from the stairs to him. Her hand trails from his forearm to pull his larger hand into hers. Her eyes never leave his. "Always."

He takes a step forward, pressing a kiss to her lips. Mary smiles as heads down, one step at a time. The chatter is loud. They are expecting Edith, Marigold, and Bertie to arrive from Brancaster later on. Mary is particularly on edge. It is no surprise, considering its Edith's family arriving. Her last letter however hinted she was pregnant.

They need a good distraction. Distraction from waiting, yes. However, Tom and Robert have been looking over the finances too. A distraction from that is most welcoming for Tom.

He clutches Mary's hand as they head to the drawing room. Her hair is getting longer. It now reaches past the nape of her neck. She rolls her eyes as she hears Cora going on about Edith's arrival.

"Play nice," Tom whispers.

"And what will I receive in reward?" she purrs.

Yes, he loves distractions.

/

Her wails carry throughout the house. He sits in the library with Robert. Violet has gone home because the day is almost over. Isobel and Cora remain upstairs.

He hears her let out another cry and he clutches his drink. Robert had tried to read. However, his book lays on the couch forgotten as he joins Tom in pacing.

Another cry and Tom feels his legs waiver. The glass shatters and Robert is shouting. His eyes start rolling back.

"Tom?"

He is laying on the couch and scrambles to get up. "What happened? How is Mary?"

"You fainted," says Isobel. "As for Mary, she is waiting to introduce you to someone."

He pushes through the door to find Mary sitting up in bed, baby cradled to her chest. Her eyes flutter opened when she sees him. She is beautiful. "Come, Tom. I would like you to meet your son."

His eyes grow as he sits on the edge of the bed. "He is beautiful. He has your eyes."

"I did say you could name him. But I won't have any nicknames."

Nodding, he reaches out to brush his fingers over the infant's head. "Hello, Albert Matthew."

His eyes raise to Mary's and tears fall. She shakes his head before he can speak and kisses his palm. She is fine.

He is hesitant to leave them. His feet are rooted to the ground as he watches her yawn and Anna comes back to take the baby.

His eyes water when they tell him he must leave, change for the night and get rest. He loves her. He loves her. He loves her. He tells them all as he is ushered out.

It seems as if in no time she is back on her feet, demanding for things to progress. Their financials are in a state they would all rather not have them in. She cradles Albert against hip as Robert goes through plans, pulling papers out. He spreads them out and begins to point. Mary takes a moment to send him a look. Her lips are in a line, but her eyes glisten as she stares at him.

They start going over various plans and situations, Robert running a hand down his face. "Shall I bring Cora in to join the discussion?"

"Yes, get Mama."

Robert nods, an optimistic look still on his face. He parts with a quick squeeze to each of their shoulders. Mary takes a moment to entertain Albert. His son giggles and reaches for his mother.

"You and the children are all I need," he says.

She is nothing and then she is something. She is everything.

 _ **Wow that took forever to finish! I have spent the last three hours at this computer going over it and wrote another 1k words. I'm not sure I like how it ended, but I've already scrapped it several times. As you know, this is the last chapter. I'm ending it here. This was meant to be a three-shot. I'll leave their futures up to you. You make up your mind about the road Downton is headed down and if it can survive. I wanted to come full circle and I did that to the best of my abilities I think. Hope you liked. It's very emotion packed vs sexual, which took me back to TLA again.**_

 _ **I was listening to music while writing this. I've decided to share the songs because, in my opinion, they complement the chapter. The songs:**_

 _ **Such Good Luck – Downton Abbey**_

 _ **Who I'd Be – Shrek the Musical (Original Broadway Cast recording)**_

 _ **Sonya Alone – Natasha, Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812**_

 _ **Courage and Kindness – Cinderella (Original Motion Picture)**_

 _ **And some bonus:**_

 _ **When Words Fail – Shrek the Musical (Original Broadway Cast recording)**_

 _ **No One Else – Natasha, Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812**_

 _ **Let me know if you listened to any of the songs or already liked them. I don't know what else to say except thank you so much for reading. Please review!**_

 _ **Tumblr: mrsmarybranson**_


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